It's All My Fault
by FaithInFiction
Summary: After an avalanche, Virgil Tracy is left to fend for himself for three days. Coming out of it worse for ware, he struggles to come to terms with what's happened and finds himself in a situation that no one should be in. Warning! Death, Self-Harm, Suicidal thoughts - Read at your own discretion. On hiatus until I have good ideas (sadness).
1. Before

**AN: Hey there! This is my first fanfiction that I may or may not post online (you'll be reading this if I have – well done me). Just to warn you; there will be a lot of heavy themes in this. If you are sensitive to DEATH, DEPRESSION and SUICIDE (perhaps SELF-HARM as well) then DO NOT READ THIS. If you do, then that's your decision. Just be careful.**

 **At the start this story, Virgil will be 16 years old in the year 2057.**

 **This whole fanfiction is inspired by the Thunderbirds headcanon 294 on the blog thunderbirdsheadcanons on tumblr, as well as 'A Tracy by any other name' by grnfield on this website.**

 **Thank you for checking this out.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Thunderbirds or any of its characters.**

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Before

Virgil sniffed amidst his cocoon of blankets in his room at the Cabin. He had woken up earlier that morning with a fever and so he'd stayed in, not participating in the day's activities. It was unfair, he thought, he was stuck in bed while his brothers were out having fun. It was for the best though; it wouldn't be good if he got even more unwell. He didn't want to be a bother for everyone. If he was still ill with the fever by tomorrow morning, he would have to stay in the cabin while everyone else moved further up the ski slopes. His parents had said there was a ski resort barely ten miles up and there was talk of staying there for a night.

"Luxury showers!" Gordon had exclaimed, "I wonder if they have a gift shop!" His face had a dreamy look.

"All shops don't have fish toys especially for you, Gordon," Virgil teased.

"Yeah? Well…" Gordon was silent for a moment, trying to think of a cool response, "there won't be any art supplies for you either!"

Virgil chuckled, "Sure, bro."

Gordon harrumphed, crossing his arms, but looked back at Virgil with a smirk. Before Virgil knew it, Gordon was on top of him trying to wrestle him to the ground. However, the small fourteen-year-old didn't stand a chance against Virgil's larger arms and soon he was on his stomach pounding his fists to the floor.

"I give up, I give up! You win, ok? Just get off!"

"Yeah, yeah," Virgil said affectionately.

The rest of the family were watching with fondness. Scott was standing in the doorway opposite their parents and was trying to stop himself from smiling, but it was clearly not working. Both Jeff and Lucille Tracy were carrying hot drinks and were chuckling, clearly amused at the display.

Remembering that moment brought up a light laugh that quickly descended into a gross, wet hacking sound. Still coughing, he sat up abruptly and rushed to the bathroom, thinking he was about to throw up. When he arrived in the room, he collapsed over the toilet retching. After his coughing stopped, he was left shuddering in the bathroom despite him wearing several layers of clothing, when all of a sudden, he felt something heavy being draped across his shoulders. He brought it into focus and saw it was a couple of thick blankets. Drawing them tighter around himself he looked, in his weird state of semi-awareness, to see it was his mother, her kind face shining down at him with warmth.

"Did you vomit, Virgil?" She asked, concerned. Even though her brows were furrowed she still looked like the prettiest woman he'd ever met, and her voice was still soft, trying to comfort him.

Virgil didn't want to say anything in case he made himself cough again so he just shook his head.

"Hmm," you could see the cogs turning behind her eyes, "I think you may be coming down with a chest infection. We'll need to get you to a doctor soon."

Virgil couldn't protest. He nodded slightly as his mother went to help him up. Collapsing into her, he felt a little ashamed of taking advantage of her warmth, but he was just so cold. It felt silly, when he thought about it, that his mother seemed to light up any room just by being there, kind of like a light in the darkness.

She helped him hobble to his room where he collapsed on his bed, his mother pulling the covers over him. He almost felt ten years younger. She used to tuck him into bed every night and read to him until he was fast asleep.

"Just cough if you need anything," She smiled.

Virgil nodded and smiled back. It was her sense of humour. Virgil watched her go and the light she carried go with her. It was strange that he still yearned for his mother at sixteen, nearly an adult! But she was always there, always kind and always bright. With an image of her in his head, Virgil shut his eyes and managed to drift into a feverish sleep.

* * *

A knock on the door. Virgil jerked awake and looked bleary-eyed for the source of the noise. Couldn't he just go back to sleep? When he'd finally opened his eyes enough he saw Scott come in through the door holding something.

"Hey, little bro," Scott's voice was firm, it always was, he was supposed to be the eldest of the five brothers at eighteen years old and was planning to go off to university soon.

"Hey," Virgil slurred his words a little, "I ain't little."

Scott chuckled, "I know, you're the strongest out of all of us."

Virgil looked a little sceptical.

Shaking his head, Scott made his way further towards the bed, "Mom made you some soup; it's chicken."

Trying to sit up and failing, Virgil started coughing uncontrollably, a wet hacking sound. Scott immediately set the tray down and supported his brother, rubbing a hand along his back. Virgil wanted to say it didn't really help at all, but it was a nice comfort and he was disappointed when his brother drew his hand away to give him a tissue. Virgil took it gratefully and spat out what he had coughed up, and sneaking a peek at it revealed a viscous yellow substance. He quickly threw it away in the giant bin bag that was right next to his bed, so he didn't get is snot and mucous all over the floor. His mother had said that.

"It's not green yet," Virgil said smiling at his older brother.

Scott didn't say anything and his brows were furrowed slightly, but soon he turned to Virgil as if he had just remembered that he was indeed in his brother's room, and gave him a small smile. To be honest it didn't seem like much of a smile, it was more like a twitch of the lips; it was only there for a second and then it was gone. After he had made sure Virgil was comfortable where Virgil was sitting up, Scott grabbed the tray and set it gently on Virgil's lap. The warmth of the soup travelled trough the tray and onto his thighs, which was a pleasant feeling. As soon as Virgil took the first slurp of soup he instantly felt better, the warmth soothing his raw throat and settling throughout his body. It made him feel safe, maybe that was because of the knowledge that his mother had made it for him.

"Hey, Virgil?"

He had almost forgotten that Scott was in the room, "Yeah?" His voice was still hoarse from all of the coughing he had done.

"I'm worried about you."

He shook his head and took a breath in to speak, but Scott interrupted him.

"No. Don't speak, I just wanted to tell you something," Scott took a deep breath and continued, "I was talking with everyone and we were thinking that we might want to stay here with you, to take care of you."

Virgil blanched and without realising what he was doing, he began to speak, "No. No. I don't want to be the reason that you all miss out on a day of fun. Please," he grabbed Scott's hand, and looked him in the eye, "don't worry about me. I'm fine. I'm absolutely fine," It was a lie and Virgil knew it, "just go and have fun for me. Tell me all about it when you get back," he smiled at Scott reassuringly.

It took a moment, but Scott eventually nodded, "Alright then, I'll go and tell the others. Before exiting he looked back and said, "Get well soon, Virgil."

Virgil nodded and watched as Scott turned the corner. Looking back at his soup he didn't feel hungry, but he knew it would be bad if he didn't eat, and he didn't want to waste his mother's food. So reluctantly, he slowly drank the soup and by the end he felt like falling asleep again. Without bothering to brush his teeth, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

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 **AN: Thanks for reading this first chapter. If you would like, you can leave a review and tell me what you think of it so far, I'd really appreciate the feedback :)**


	2. The Event

**AN: Hi Again! Just to let you know, your heart might break in this chapter. So, I'm sorry in advance.**

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The Event:

When Virgil next woke up he was finding it hard to breathe and could see daylight coming in through the bottom of his curtain. How long had he slept? To be honest, he was grateful he'd been able to get a full night of undisturbed sleep, though he still felt terrible. He had slipped down from his supporting pillows in the night, and that was most likely the reason why he was finding it hard to breathe. As he moved to sit up he felt as though he'd made a mistake; he began coughing again, convulsing uncontrollably, the wet hacking sound ever prevalent. Not long after his coughing fit had started, his mother came in looking slightly dishevelled with dark circles beginning to form under her eyes. She moved to Virgil in a quick and efficient manner, shifting him back against the pillows so he could sit up properly all the while rubbing her hand on his back. It felt similar to what Scott had one the night before. After his coughing fit was over, his mother handed him a tissue that found its way into the nearly full black bag.

"How are you feeling, Virgil? And don't think about telling me you feel fine; that won't work."

He wanted to chuckle, but resisted with the reminder of a future coughing fit, "Like I've been run over by a truck." His attempt at humour had been futile, his mother was just too strained with worry and he was too weak to laugh at his own terrible joke.

"We're going to try and get you to a doctor today when everyone gets back."

"So they all went then?"

"Yes, even your father went. I think he really needed it."

"That's good," Virgil smiled. He was glad that everyone was able to have fun, but was still a bit frustrated with himself for falling ill and not being able to join them, even worse, making his mother stay behind. "I'm sorry."

His mother looked taken aback, "What do you mean?"

"I know you wanted to-"

"Virgil Grissom Tracy," When his full name was used, he felt compelled to hear his mother out, "Now listen here; I don't care about some fancy schamncy ski resort, I care about you."

"But-"

"No buts. You are important, Virgil. To your family, and pretty soon, the world. You need to make every second count."

"But how am I going to do that when I'm as ill as this?" He tried to raise his voice, but it only came out as a hoarse whisper.

"Sometimes life throws curveballs at you, you already know that don't you?" He nods, "You need to deal with those curveballs and get through it, and when you come out the other side, you'll be even stronger for it."

Virgil was silent for a while, "Yeah, that makes sense. Thanks, Mom."

Without warning she began showering him with kisses.

"Wha-? Mo-Mom? S-Stop!" and she did so with a grin on her face, "I'm nearly an adult, I'll be too old for this soon."

"I hope not."

They both stared each other until Virgil burst into laughter that, as usual by now, descended into a coughing fit. All the while his mother stood there helping him.

About two hours later Virgil actually felt hungry, which he thought was a good sign so he called out as best as he could to his mother to ask for some food. She had come straight away and seemed delighted that he was feeling better, "We should still get you to a doctor though; I don't like the sound of that cough. Everyone should be back in a few hours, we'll go then. Your father said he'd let us know when they were leaving."

"Ok," Virgil said quietly. He was enjoying the peace, but was beginning to miss the constant chatter that the group produced, especially Alan and Gordon. Despite the two being for sure the most annoying brothers and took the most effort to care for and calm down, they were also the funniest. Virgil remembered the time when Gordon was nine and Alan was seven; at their home in Kansas the two tried to play a prank on Scott but it backfired, and Scott managed to turn the prank around. The two younger brothers had planned for Scott to walk through the doorway of the living room and get soaked by a bucket of water. However, Scott had been outside with their father, helping with the car, and had come in through the front door instead of the back door. The two had got confused as to why Scott wasn't yelling and so walked through the their own trap to find out. The result was pretty hilarious: both Virgil and John had been there to witness the younger brothers bicker with each other, and when John asked them what the purpose of the prank was they said it was to get Scott. As soon as they'd said this, Scott walked into the room and took in the scene.

"What did I miss?"

With that one question he sent everyone into fits of laughter, even John who is hard to get to laugh on the best of days with how serious he was. Soon after Scott came back, their mother had arrived home from shopping. Viewing the scene had caused her to hide a smile and mutter, "What ever will I do with you?" and walked to he kitchen yelling that they had to clean the mess up themselves. When they asked about it later, she simply stated that she didn't want to know.

The memory brought another smile to Virgil's face. He hadn't meant to be so lethargic, but he supposed it was the fact that he was sick that was messing with his brain. Just as he thought this, his mother appeared at the doorway with a bowl of reheated soup and moved to set it down on Virgil's lap. Suddenly a massive rumble could be heard off in the distance. Wondering what could have caused the noise she looked out Virgil's window in horror. She muttered something, but he didn't hear her.

"What did you say, Mom?" He could see the panic in her face, and he knew that when a parent panics then something bad was going to happen.

"It's an avalanche. It's an avalanche, Virgil!"

Oh no.

"It's coming in fast so we won't be able to escape it, especially with your fever."

Wait. This isn't happening.

"I need you to get up as quickly as you can, come on."

She moved pulled him up quickly and he began coughing again. He could hear her apologise as they both walked, him being supported by his mother, to his door and made their way to the living area. She began busying herself with collecting food from the kitchen as well as blankets from all over the cabin.

"I need you to stay calm, okay?"

Virgil was having trouble processing this. It was all too much for his fevered brain.

"Virgil!"

He was called back by the strong voice of his mother.

"Yeah, sorry."

"We don't have much time, I need you to stay calm. I've put food over there. This is the most structurally safe place here. Just remember that I-"

Virgil didn't get to here what his mother had been trying to say.

She had disappeared. Replaced by broken wood and snow.

Virgil remained frozen in shock.

No.

Hang on.

Wait a minute.

This…

This wasn't…

"Mom?"

The rumbling was further away now, but snow was still pouring in from the ceiling. Virgil felt the cold; it was numbing. He didn't want to look down, but automatically his head slowly moved down as if controlled by a puppeteer.

It was horrible.

Blood was everywhere and was beginning to mix in with the snow. But that wasn't the worst part.

His mother was dead.

It was very clear, but he still didn't want to believe it, even with her body laid out before him, her remaining eye wide open and where the other used to be, a massive plank of wood had taken out the side of her head, her left arm and leg were buried in the blood red snow.

Virgil's vision blurred as he heard a loud scream. It was solid and it didn't echo. After he collapsed onto his knees and openly wept did he realise the screaming was his. He tried to stop it, but he couldn't. He realised he needed to throw up, so he dragged himself as fast as he could sluggishly towards the furthest corner of the now one-room cabin. His vomit was acidic in his raw throat and mouth. He didn't want his vomit to soil his mother's body more than death already had. She deserved so much better: a kind death for a kind person. But no, she had died a brutal death, unprepared. After all death was unbiased, it chose whoever it wanted to become its victim, and now it had sucked all of the light from Virgil's life in one fell swoop.

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 **AN: I'm sorry Virgil! To be honest, I don't know why I do this with my characters :P**

 **Please leave a review and tell me what you think :)**


	3. Surviving or Dying?

**AN: Hello! Here, Virgil is struggling to come to terms with what's just happened. Please let me know what you think :)**

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Surviving or Dying?

Cold. Wet.

Those two sensations brought Virgil back into consciousness. He was lying in his own vomit and the snow was melting into his clothes already. Trying to sit up, Virgil coughed and wheezed, but this time it was worse and when he looked for somewhere to spit, next to his own vomit, he saw it was green.

 _Shit. It's a chest infection. Mom would-_

He didn't finish thinking what his mum would do, because his mother wouldn't do anything.

Because his mother was dead.

The full weight of this knowledge crushed his lungs so tightly he thought an invisible force was wrestling him to the ground. His sobs were wet and gross and mingled with his foul cough. The cold air stung his throat making his cough even worse, making him sound like he were choking. He stayed in this jabbering wreck of a state for goodness knows how long. There was barely any light and that made it impossible to tell the time of day. It was as though he was stuck in a bubble of time, unmoving, and it kept playing back that horrible moment over and over again. His mother would fail to finish her sentence, blood would spurt over Virgil's face, he would look down and he would wail. Every time it got worse and even more distorted. The final version that played out before Virgil passed into a fitful sleep was that his mother's eyes would be stabbed at the same time with pointy bits of wreckage, she would begin to walk forward while moaning at her son to help her, but he couldn't do anything, because he was frozen. He couldn't save her as the falling ceiling crushed her to death.

* * *

When he regained consciousness again, the heavy weight still pressed on his chest; the knowledge that his mother would never come back was still just as suffocating as when he last came to the realisation. He was weak and he felt sick. He didn't want to eat anything, mostly due to the fact that he would probably throw it up again. It was so cold. The blankets didn't help when the snow made them damp enough it soaked through to his skin, making him shiver. Time had no meaning here; it didn't pass. There was no day or night; only an eternity in what felt like it should be hell. The cold air still stung his throat and constricted his airways and made it even harder to breathe.

He tried to keep a cool head… that was slightly ironic enough to make his lips twitch upwards for a second before it fell again. His brothers were probably worried sick about him and– He didn't dare finish he thought because he knew that he would start to break down and he couldn't let himself do that, not while knowing that his brothers and his father were most likely doing everything they could to find him, so why couldn't he? Slowly and in constant agony, Virgil made his way to stand up, but his legs were trembling so badly that he collapsed back onto his knees, soaking his skin through the thin layer of his jeans. He tried again, and again, and again, until finally he was able to stand up steadily.

What would his brothers do? He knew that they would try to find a way out as best they could. Scanning the surrounding area, avoiding the sight of the corpse, he saw what looked like the antennae of a radio underneath the snow, which he suddenly remembered to be the emergency radio their father had brought with them just in case something like this happened. It appeared that Jeff Tracy was always prepared for anything. Hope was beginning to build as Virgil found his resolve and stood upright then began to walk towards the antennae, giving the corpse of his mother a wide birth. He stumbled and fell on his already soaked and battered knees, and hacked some green gob out of his system, before crawling the rest of the way there. He already knew that it was a mistake, due to the fact that his hands were getting dangerously blue and he could barely move with the environment freezing is joints together.

Finally, he made it to the antennae, but with his fever addled brain and frozen fingers, he simply could not make the radio work and so let it go with sadness and frustration. Why couldn't he make his stupid fingers work? He was getting even more scared and frustrated that his eyes kept wondering over to his mother's dead body. She's dead. He still couldn't accept it. It just wasn't possible, but the extreme cold evident in his soul made it apparent that this was the case. He was just so desperate to find some semblance of life in his mother's face, edging closer to try and find a twitch, anything that would indicate that she was still alive, but there was nothing. He edged even closer, touching the cold remains of her face, but she was colder than he was.

No light, no laughter and no joy.

Everything his mother represented seemed gone from his life, a void left in its place, and he was beginning to wonder if these feelings ever existed at all. He withdrew his hand quickly, realising finally that his mother was dead and it was his fault. No amount of persuasion from anyone or anything would convince him otherwise. It was his fault. He wanted to cry; to curl up in a ball and hide from existence. To die. Couldn't he just die here? End it all so he wouldn't have to feel this empty or hollow? But what did she say to him? You need to deal with those curveballs and get through it, and when you come out the other side, you'll be even stronger for it. Dying now would insult her memory.

He collapsed to the ground, the two ideas battling in his head. On one hand, he could die here and never worry about anything ever again. He wouldn't see the pained expression of his father and his brothers, even if he eventually got out of this mess. But that was selfish. His death would cause them pain and he never wanted to be the one to inflict that pain on anyone; he cared about them too much. It was apparent to him now that he didn't want to live, but he couldn't bring himself to cause any harm to himself. He could always give up, but that went against what his father had told him; never give up at any cost. Despite his brain still scrambled by the fever, he came to a conclusion: he would survive for as long as he could until people found him, only due the guilt he felt for abandoning the ideals of his parents. With this he sat up and looked at his mother again and began to cry.

"I'm sorry, mother. I'm so… so sorry."

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 **AN: I was considering putting in a scene from the brother's perspective at some point, but I wasn't totally sure.**

 **Please leave a review and tell me what you think, I would really appreciate it :)**


	4. Hallucinations

**AN: Hello! Thank you for staying with this so far. Poor Virgil is going to suffer more in this chapter, more psychological, but suffering nonetheless.**

 **...**

Hallucinations

Virgil still had no idea how much time had passed, a minute? An hour? The darkness was overbearing and pressed on his chest almost as much as the knowledge of death had. Isolated and alone, he wondered if someone would find him in time, especially because he still didn't feel hungry. He had been getting better before the avalanche, but the shock of the cold had brought back his numbness, and although his coughing had remained the same through his ordeal, he could gradually feel it worsening and burrowing itself deeper into his chest. Even when he breathed, it was laboured and sounded wet and unhealthy. He knew there was a chance he could die, and with the cold banishing his fever, that thought became clearer and clearer. Now he was sitting in the corner of the room, knees hugged tightly to his chest. What was he to do if he couldn't get the radio working and couldn't bring himself to eat he would definitely die. There was no second option, no way out. If someone couldn't find him, then he was done for. _Not that it would be a bad thing_ , he thought, _at least I would get to see mom again_.

"Virgil."

What was that?

"Virgil."

There it was again. It was louder this time: more insistent.

"Virgil!"

Virgil jumped, both terrified of what this was and not wanting it to be what he thought.

"Virgil Grissom Tracy! Look at me!"

He couldn't bring himself to look up; he knew that tone of voice and whom it belonged to.

But it was impossible.

Suddenly, he felt an invisible force pull his head up and he looked on in horror. It was his mother. He glanced over to where he knew her body was, and it was still there, blood and all. Looking back at the image of his mother that had appeared before him, he noticed that she was angry. He knew this because she always furrowed her brows in a certain way that was similar to their father.

"M-mom? Is that you?" His voice was trembling with fright. This could not be happening.

"Of course it's me! Who else would it be? Your father? Your brothers? Yeah, right. They wouldn't care if you disappeared."

"Wha-?" He was speechless.

"After all; it _is_ your fault that I'm dead."

Virgil's eyes began to well up.

"What? It's true isn't it?"

He nodded mutely.

"See, you were always the honest one Virgil," her tone had changed to something more sombre and accusatory, "Always emotional."

He didn't think he could trust himself to speak, so he nodded again.

All of a sudden, she grabbed him by the shoulders and he choked at how real it felt. She screamed and shook him, "Why did you let me die, Virgil? Why do you live when my life ended? You couldn't even save your own mother!"

Tears were flowing free when he choked out a wet, "Stop."

"Why should I? Why should I listen to you, you ungrateful little-"

He tried to block out the barrage of insults that followed. He did nothing, but sit there and cry. It was his fault after all.

The final insult that shook him to the core was, "I wish you'd never been born!"

Virgil stopped sobbing, though cold tears still leaked from his eyes, "My mother wouldn't say that."

The figure looked at him, "Why?"

"Because I know my mother," Virgil said defiantly, "I know that she is caring, and loving and so gentle. She is strong and kind. She would never say those horrible things to me."

Throughout all of this, the apparition stood and looked on with a blank expression.

Nothing was said for a long time. The two beings looked at each other: the apparition emotionless and Virgil with a defiant expression that quickly fell away as he began to cough and hack into the snow in front of him.

While this was happening the thing spoke, "You are weak, Virgil Tracy. You do not have the strength to fight me. I'll always be with you, and I'll always make your life a living hell!"

Even though Virgil had just coughed into the snow, he stood back up again facing the vision straight on and said, "You are not my mother!" He went to push her away from him but he fell through air.

It was silent. Cold. There had been no evidence that the vision had been there.

But what if it _had_ been a vision of his mother? His real mother, and that was the way she thought of him: a useless problem child that couldn't do a damn thing. He couldn't save her. He was ready to accept the consequences: to die. It wouldn't matter if he lived or not. If he did survive this, which was unlikely, he would always have that crushing feeling in his chest that was some sort of mixture between guilt and despair. It was still his fault. If he hadn't gotten ill; him, his mother and his family would be on the top of the ski slopes, together and unharmed. If he hadn't gotten ill, his mother would still be alive. If he hadn't gotten ill, he wouldn't be thinking about how his death would affect his family, if they even cared about him right now. Some part of him knew that it wasn't fair on them; they were probably doing everything they could to try and get to him, but Virgil was spiralling down into misery and didn't care anymore.

He looked to the left from where he lay, gradually getting colder and colder, and observed his mother's corpse. There was no way he could twist it to make it seem like she was sleeping, because there was still the blood and the wreckage. And her eyes were still open. The only evidence that time had actually past was that her eyes were now a cloudy blue. If Virgil looked close enough he could see the ice crystals form over her face. He suddenly stopped looking at her when a thought crossed his mind: what if he ended up like that? Images of himself with those dead eyes flooded his mind, not to mention the reactions of his family. He could envision it now; him lying dead and cold on the very spot where he lay now, his eyes wide open and dead and his brothers coming in. They would all take it hard, especially Gordon whom Virgil was most close to, if you could say that in the close knit family that they were. But Gordon was Virgil's closest friend not counting Scott who he always saw as the eldest brother. He could see it now: all of them coming into this hell of a place that was once a home and them rushing to his body begging him to wake up, crying and crying. He didn't realise it, but tears began to run down his face, he didn't want them to see him like that; sprawled out on the ground without any dignity like an abandoned puppet. He let out a sob of despair, because he was ashamed. He was ashamed of himself. He had given up so easily and had resolved to die with dignity. Was dignity dying with his eyes closed? In a dignified position? The thing was… he didn't want to die, not really. He just wanted to get away from this cold world of torture, with his dead mother in the corner. The thought of that brought fresh tears to his eyes. Why couldn't he have died with her and been spared this hell of not knowing. Not knowing if he would get back to his family, his friends, anyone who cared about him.

But did they really?

Doubt, wormed its way into Virgil's brain. Did anyone really love him, or were they just pretending; putting on a façade? He might not even live to see if this was the truth or not. Everything was so uncertain and he hated every second of this, whatever this _hell_ was.

After contemplating if any of the interactions he had had in this life were in fact real, Virgil had come to a solid conclusion on what to do. Slowly, he got up and tried to walk slowly towards his mother, well, what was left of her anyway. He couldn't recognise that face anymore: the one that had smiled to him throughout his youth, the one that had taught him the piano and how to draw. His best memories were flooded with a warmness that didn't exist anymore. He fell. He got back up. He walked a little more and finally fell for the last time close to his mother's corpse. _Not close enough_ , he thought. He crawled on his hands and knees further towards her. He wanted to be found with her, even though they both did not meet their ends at the same: it would be a lie. He stopped, just centimetres away from touching his mother again, his arms and legs were still outstretched, but he didn't want this to be a lie. All of a sudden, Virgil felt really tired. He wanted to sleep. _Finally_ , he thought as he let the darkness swallow him.

 **...**

 **AN: Wow. That was really deep,** **but** **i did enjoy writing this chapter. Also, I** **unwittingly** **made references to both** ** _Hamlet_** **and** ** _Dante's Inferno_** **. With Hamlet, there's** **the** **whole uncertainty whether or not the Ghost brings "airs from heaven or blasts from hell", essentially not knowing is the Ghost is good or evil. Then, with Dante's Inferno, the lowest layer of hell is an ice wasteland where the Satan himself presides. In this way, it is extremely ironic,** **because** **the person who helps Dante is named Virgil... yeah, that's basically my thought process with this.**

 **If you'd like, please leave a review with some constructive criticism :)**


	5. Hello to Reality

**AN: In this chapter, we get to see an insight into Jeff's state of mind as he** **desperately** **wants to find his wife and son.**

 **...**

Hello to Reality

Why had it taken so long to get the search and rescue team here? It had already been three days! Jeff Tracy had been a very agitated man when the crew had finally arrived and had insisted on coming on the search with them. He was in one of the helicarriers now and had left Scott with the rest of his sons so that they would have someone to look after them. He could see it in Scott's eyes: the determination to help in every way possible. It had taken quite a lot of convincing to make the four brothers remain at the resort together. He actually caught Gordon trying to sneak into one of the carriers.

"Gordon Cooper Tracy!"

The boy had frozen at that; his full name was only used when he was in serious trouble with his parents. Also, that fact that he had been apprehended had shocked him. Surely he had been careful enough not to have anyone see him. But he didn't want to stress his father more than he already had, he could see it in his father's expression, usually calm and reserved when dishing out punishment was now wrinkled in concern, worry, and anger.

"Yes, father?" Gordon said sheepishly.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Gordon tried to find an excuse before stopping and saying, "I just wanted to find Virgil and mom. I want to find them, dad, please let me help." That was more desperate than he wanted to sound, but he was concerned. They all were.

At this, Jeff relaxed a little, but still looked strained, "I know you do, Gordon, but I need you to stay here with Scott and the others."

"But-"

"Please, son. No arguments. I just want you safe too. Do you understand?"

Gordon hesitated, of course he did, but that didn't mean he didn't want to come any less. However, one more look at his father made him accept the command, "Yes, father."

Jeff sighed, "That's a good boy, now go back inside to the others. I'm sure they're looking for you."

Gordon didn't say anything, but nodded and ran towards the gift shop; the one that Virgil had said wouldn't stock any marine toys.

This recent memory made Jeff think that if Gordon did come along, he was worried about what he might see. He didn't want to think about it just yet, but he knew he had to be prepared, after all it had been three days and Virgil and Lucille were both probably… no. Jeff forced himself to remain optimistic; they were both going to be fine.

"We're over the coordinates you gave us, Mr Tracy. We need to move in and assess the damage before we start pulling people out, just a precaution you understand."

"Yes, of course."

While speaking in a calm manner, the reality was that Jeff felt incredibly agitated and wanted to dig that snow out himself. He wanted to see his beloved wife and son again, but he couldn't help but wonder in the back of his mind how Virgil's condition was. When he'd left, Virgil was still asleep, some well deserved sleep mind you, the boy hadn't been getting any the past few nights due to the coughing that Jeff always heard from his room while trying to sleep with his wife. As Jeff watched the men as they finished the survey and were now jumping down to try and clear away the snow as best they could. He reluctantly began to think about what he would find. Virgil was resourceful enough; he should have survived along with Lucille. He had to have hope. Shouting could be heard just then, Jeff moved quickly out of the helicarrier and saw some of the men jump inside the hole they had cut in the wall of the cabin. He struggled to the opening that was too dark to see through at first, but then his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

It was horrible.

He couldn't get his mind to process what he was seeing at first, but then he saw the body of his wife. She was clearly dead, because he didn't recognise those lifeless eyes that were once so stunning and beautiful and full of happiness. He couldn't move. Jeff stood there speechless, because he couldn't comprehend what was happening.

"He's barely breathing!"

Jeff snapped his attention to the group of men beside his wife. Virgil!

"He's still alive," breathed Jeff, "He's alive!"

"Stop! Sir, we need you to get out of our path so that we can move him!"

The man was struggling to hold back Jeff as he struggled to get to Virgil's side.

"But he's my son! Don't you understand? He's my son!"

It took three men to subdue Jeff so that they could evacuate Virgil to the helicarrier. When he caught a sight of Virgil, Jeff stopped and stared. It looked nothing like his son: blue and cold and unmoving. This was one of the rare times in Jeff Tracy's life when he had no idea what to do. He could feel the men pushing him into the vehicle and he heard them saying that they would come back for the body later; that Virgil's health was of the utmost importance. However, Jeff Tracy who was now staring intently down at his son's cold face wearing an oxygen mask, did not understand any of this. It was absolutely terrifying to consider that arguably one of the strongest of the five brothers looked so frail and breakable.

It seemed that the Tracy's lives would change forever.

…

Gordon sat sulking in the corner he'd been in for a good three hours now.

"When's dad going to be back with Virgil and mom?"

Gordon glanced to the side to see Alan looking up at their oldest brother Scott, eyes wide and puppy-like.

"Dad will be back when he's back," Scott repeated.

"But that's what you said the last two times I asked."

"I know, Alan, but dad hasn't said anything to me yet so we have to wait."

Alan looked like he was about to protest, but he just slumped back down in his seat.

Gordon decided that this was the moment to say something, but noticed Scott leaning against the wall with a panicked look in his eye and hands on his head.

He saw John go to Scott's side and made him sit down in John's previously occupied chair, "What's wrong?"

He still sounded calm, but there was something desperate in his brother's voice that Gordon heard in his own when he spoke next, "Scott! What happened?"

Scott didn't say anything; he just stared blankly at the floor with wide eyes that John, as well as Gordon, could recognise as helplessness. Nothing was said then as three boys hugged their eldest brother, and they knew they were all thinking the same thing: their mum and Virgil would be back, and they would be safe, but they all had their doubts.

…

"We've got to get him to the hospital now!"

The loud voice shook Jeff out of his trance from where he had been staring at Virgil.

"Tell me what can I do," Jeff sounded desperate even to himself. When the crew looked uncertainly at one another he asked again, "Just let me do _something_!" It was a bit more forceful than he had intended, but the crew shared another look and one of them came to sand next to Jeff.

"You're Jeff Tracy, right?"

Expecting that this man was a fan of his, Jeff replied with a curt, "yes", thinking that this was one of the most awful times for someone to ask for his autograph.

"My name is Brad Madison," he reached out his hand towards Jeff and he took it wearily, "nice to meet you."

Jeff noticed that the man had a scar diagonally across his nose, just missing his right eye.

"Now, Jeff, may I call you Jeff?"

Jeff nodded.

"My buddies are taking the helicarrier as fast as they can to the hospital, but it's an hour away. I need you to talk to your son. Can you do that?"

Again Jeff nodded.

"Ok, that's good. I'll be right here, and don't be discouraged if he doesn't wake up,."

This time Jeff simply moved to his son's side. Despite being gone for only three days, Virgil looked completely haggard. Stubble was appearing on his jaw and his cheekbones were hollow, and Jeff knew, even though the blankets were covering him, Virgil looked skinny and weak.

He took a deep breath in and spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, "Virgil?" There was no response. "Son, can you hear me?"

Jeff began to feel fear rising in his chest.

"It's no worry, just talk to him, anything, it's possible he can still be able to hear you, even in this state," Brad gave Jeff a small smile for encouragement.

Jeff didn't really feel that much better.

 **...**

 **AN: Ahhh! Poor Jeff! T_T**

 **I sort of struggled a bit writing this chapter; I couldn't get the wording exactly how I wanted it to, but I think I** **made it work. I think I've edited this chapter the most from when I first wrote it, but it's actually turned out alright, so hurrah for editing!~**

 **Also, I just wanted to see how many people got the extremely subtle Rocky Horror Show reference in the name Brad Madison. In the movie/play he's actually called Brad Majors and he asks, "Do you guys know how to Madison?" I was incredibly into the movie when I wrote this chapter so apologies for the lack of imagination: I'm really bad coming up with names.**

 **Please leave a review with some constructive criticism. Thanks :)**


	6. The Start of Something

**AN: Hi! Just to warn you, there is an uncomfortable scene later in this chapter. Enjoy :)**

 **...**

The Start of Something

Virgil didn't look any better in the stark white hospital bed, the colour accentuating the paleness of his skin and the hollows of his cheeks. Jeff had hardly slept in the four hours he'd been in the hospital. Earlier, he had called Scott and had told him Virgil was in hospital.

"They say it's going to take a while for him to wake up," Jeff's voice had sounded thick when talking down the phone to Scott, but he was trying his best to remain stable. The image of his beloved Lucille dead kept appearing in his mind when he least expected it, and so he was trying his best not to let Scott know what had happened. Not just yet.

"That's good news, father," Scott had sounded relieved but then his voice change to that of apprehension, "but what about mother? Is she alright as well?"

Jeff considered telling Scott what had happened right then and there, but suddenly changed his mind; "I think it would be best if you come to the hospital."

"I don't understand, father. Is everything alr-"

"Scott," Jeff's voice was unnaturally quiet, "Just come to the hospital. I'll explain everything to you all once everyone's here."

Nothing could be heard from the receiver so Jeff disconnected the line. It was impossible to tell the horrible truth just then.

At the moment, he was still by Virgil's side. By now, he had already run out of things to talk to him about, wondering if Virgil really could hear him.

"Virgil?" There was no response. "Virgil, please son. If you can hear me… please wake up."

There was only the silence of the room along with the slow beeping of the heart monitor.

 _Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

It was too slow, Jeff thought. He should be running around, painting and doing the things that made his heart beat with excitement. Now it was as if this incident had taken something belonging to Virgil: his light. It was very similar to his mother's in the way that she would laugh and smile while she would play the piano and run around chasing the boys in their youth. Still staring at his son's ghost-like face, Jeff allowed a half smile to twitch onto his face and before he knew it, he could feel tears slipping down his face. He paid them no mind as he settled further into the hospital chair and began to think of happier times.

…

White.

Everything around Virgil appeared like an exceptionally clean art gallery with an immensely high roof. It was so high it faded away into the distance and so he couldn't see the top. As he looked around in awe of the place, he noticed the framed canvases and saw that they were all blank. The canvases were just as white as the floor he stood on, almost shining in the warmth that surrounded the area; a welcome change from the cold he had been feeling moments ago. He felt strangely at home in the place, almost as if he had been brought here just to feel safe: his own sanctuary.

 _Sanctuary?_

Where had that voice come from? It sounded odd; as if it echoed both around the space and his own mind. He waited a moment. Did he imagine it?

 _Why would you think that?_

No, of course not. That shiver of cold winds each time the voice spoke harshly juxtaposed the warmth of the place. He wanted to ask what is was, who it was, if it was indeed a person. What did it want? Trying desperately to speak to it, Virgil found that he couldn't, he was unable to find his vocal chords. He couldn't comprehend that feeling, nor would he be able to explain it to anyone else even if he tried. His voice was just gone.

…

Scott speeded down the hospital corridor, heading straight for Virgil's room with his three other brothers hurrying behind him. A strange sense of foreboding filled his chest making the questions he didn't want to think about overwhelm him in the worst example of dread and fear. He tried not to let this show, but they were all worried for both Virgil and their mother. What had happened exactly? Why had their father been so reluctant to discuss anything over the phone?

Gordon followed behind Scott with Allan and John; they all had similar expressions of anxiety and anticipation. All of a sudden they bumped into one another with sounds of protest when Scott stood to a halt, but then they all looked up and properly saw the room number and understood why. Scott pushed the door open slowly with obvious effort to remain calm as they all entered to see their father sitting slouched in a chair, looking at Virgil's face.

A collection of loud gasps could be heard. Jeff looked up wearily and noticed his healthy, if not dishevelled looking, sons and beckoned them over with a small wave of his hand. Noticing the tension in their bodies, Jeff let out a heavy sigh and made a move to speak until Scott interrupted him.

"Father," his voice sounded stained, "what's wrong with Virgil?"

All eyes turned to Jeff, desperate for an explanation.

He tried to gather his scattered thoughts before he began to explain.

"The doctors are saying he's suffering from hypothermia and have found that a virus has entered his system."

There was total silence again with the slow _beep, beep, beep_ of the heart monitor.

"But…" Everyone now turned to look at Gordon, "why is he unconscious?"

They all looked to Jeff again for a further explanation.

"Well," he paused for a moment, his voice thick, "he was found unconscious at the cabin. They think he collapsed from a combination of fatigue and the extreme cold."

Jeff knew what question would come next and so he tried to mentally prepare himself for the complete despair that he knew would arrive soon. But there was silence as they all looked at Virgil's sleeping face. It was almost peaceful if it wasn't for the dark circles and abnormally pale skin that made Virgil look like a corpse.

Finally, the question came with Alan's whisper.

"Where's mom?"

…

Panicking, Virgil frantically clawed at his neck. Surely his ability to speak hadn't disappeared. The disembodied voice floated around him and it hummed a strange tune in the back of his head, but he couldn't fully make it out. His hysteria rose, making the whole experience even more terrifying. Why did he have to be alone here?

 _Who said you were alone?_

The voice floated ominously around the space as it became cold once more.

 _I'm always with you, yet you've never noticed until now. I wonder why that is._

Virgil could feel a grin emanating from the voice. Of course he didn't know what it was; he hadn't been aware of this invisible monstrosity at all.

 _Aww, you hurt my feelings._

The voice had now taken on a singsong tone that reminded Virgil of a spoilt child.

 _Well, seeing as you don't know me, I will tell you._

 _My name is Skelpien._

At the mere mention of this name, Virgil felt a strange sense of recognition but he was unable place it.

 _Ahh. I can sense that you do know me, but how could you forget? We used to talk all the time and play games together. But then you grew older and I got pushed away to the back of your mind._

Virgil could hear the cold breeze pick up as it drew nearer to him. It swirled around him for a moment when it eventually stopped. There was silence and a dull, grey atmosphere replaced the warmth of the light that had been the last remnant of a once happy place.

A breath.

Virgil whirled around when he felt the sensation of his hairs standing on end. He was met with… himself? The doppelganger had Virgil's appearance as a child so it was horrifying to see something that should be innocent look so sinister, inhuman.

 _Are you shocked? I expect you would be._

It began to circle around Virgil who couldn't help feeling like he was about to be devoured; such a primal instinct, he didn't even think it was possible to feel this way. The movements of the doppelganger were slow and purposeful and by its smirk, Virgil reckoned it enjoyed watching him squirm.

 _I was more or less awakened at the time of your... incident._

As it progressed its smile grew unnaturally larger.

 _I could hear your thoughts; they were so loud that you woke me up. These thoughts fed me and made me stronger._

Suddenly, it dashed quickly towards Virgil, but he was frozen to the spot unable to move. He was face to face with the thing; its frozen breath smelling of something horribly rancid, Virgil tried not to gag. The thing moved even closer, its entire body pushed up against him, freezing him to the core. It slowly and deliberately ran its rough tongue up his neck and along his jawline; the terrible wet sensation caused Virgil to silently choke at the ultimate intrusion of his personal space.

It drew back satisfied and licked its lips.

 _Mmm, that was delicious. Even now, your thoughts despair and you are hopeless._

Laughter. It was a nightmarish laugh that echoed in the emptiness of the space and it continued manically and made Virgil want to crawl into a whole and escape from this horror.

 _Perhaps,_ the doppelganger said, _I should send you back. It seems there is more heartbreak waiting for you on the other side._

Virgil could feel himself growing weaker with every breath and collapsed to the icy floor.

 _I'll see you later then._

 **…**

 **AN: You can interpret this last scene however you like, but I think the meaning is pretty clear.**

 **You can leave a review if you like, I'd like to hear your opinions.**

 **Also! Please vote in the pole that's on my page to see which Tracy brother would best fit, or could be made to fit, the character of a semi-violent Victorian Vigilante, hopefully I'll do something with that at some point. Thanks :)**


	7. Damaged

Damaged

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sound of the heart monitor was uncommonly loud in hospital room in which the Tracy family was gathered in the presence of their unconscious loved one. Alan's question had caught Jeff slightly off guard. He tried his best to make eye-contact with his sons, but his chest felt like it was going to explode and his throat was so thick he didn't think he could speak.

"She's," his voice cracked, he wasn't ready to say this out loud but they needed to know the truth. Eyes stinging, Jeff cleared his throat continued, "She… didn't make it."

Looking up to gauge the expressions of his sons he was met with confused faces, and this broke his heart.

"What do you mean, father?" Asked Scott, "I don't understand."

Taking a deep breath, Jeff tried to make it clear once and for all how their lives had now changed forever, "She's dead, Scott; she died in the avalanche, only Virgil survived." He couldn't stop it, tears dripped down his face and all of a sudden the situation became very real for the brothers. Scott took a deep breath and covered his mouth while tears began to brim in his eyes. How could it have happened so fast? They had only last seen her a few days ago and even then she was alive and well. They had always believed both her and Virgil had survived together, but now it was apparent that it wasn't the case. Every single one of them in that room felt absolute despair as the news sunk in.

They would never see their mother again.

They would never see her smile or her laugh, or even the way she always used to tie her hair up when she painted.

And then they realised, "Oh God," Scott managed to choke out, "Virgil."

He couldn't believe they had forgotten about Virgil.

"Where was he?" Scott whispered, he desperately wanted his theory to be false but the look on their father's face said volumes.

"He was found with her," Jeff could still feel the tightness in chest that he now recognised as a painful absence, "He was there where she died. He couldn't get out. The rescue team had to dig a hole in the side of the cabin to get him out."

Now everyone looked silently at the still unconscious Virgil as they all moved closer to his bedside. They all tried to see any trace of this incredible suffering in his gaunt face, but it was still while he breathed through the oxygen mask the doctors had put on him. Every brother could hear the laboured breathing that their father had been listening to for the last couple of hours and it shook them to the core. Now, all of them were reluctantly trying to imagine what it was like for him during the span of those three terrible days.

All of a sudden, they all noticed the fluttering of Virgil's eyelids as he tried to open them. Sharing an anxious look with each other, they didn't dare say a word, hoping that he wouldn't go back to sleep.

…

The first thing Virgil heard was a steady _beep, beep, beep, beep_. What could that be? His sense of smell then started to process a strong smell of disinfectant. That was strange, the cabin usually smelled of hard wood and good cooking. When he tried to open his eyes, he observed a glimpse of something blurry and white. Wait. He wasn't in the cabin. Suddenly everything came flooding back to him; the cold, the traumatic death of his mother and the strange conversation with his doppelganger. He sat up abruptly, immediately regretful when his head felt like it had imploded. He hissed in pain, vaguely hearing the beeping go haywire. His eyes could barely bring anything into focus but he felt compelled to try and escape; he frantically fumbled to remove the oxygen mask and wires that he was attached to and leave. He wanted to leave all of this behind and not have to deal with any of this pain. It tore away at his chest and pounded at his skull. He could vaguely recognise some people standing around him.

"Virgil?" Someone asked; it was clear that they were concerned. When Virgil's eyes came into focus he saw that it was Scott. Oh no. If Scott was there, then… He looked around wildly and saw the rest of his family. His breathing became faster as he thought about the torment they were going through because of him. All because of him. He tried to run away, but his legs failed him and he fell into Scott's arms. No; he didn't deserve anyone's help. It was all his fault. It was all his fault. It was all his fault.

He gradually sunk to the floor in despair, and he could still feel Scott's warm presence beside him as he touched the cold white floor. Curling into a ball and touching his head to the surface he began to cry. He hated this, he didn't want to cry. A mumbling of voices made its way to his ears, but he couldn't bring himself to understand what they were saying. Then he was aware he was being carefully lifted up and was set back down on the soft hospital bed almost like a child. When he opened his eyes, he could see a blurry ceiling through his tears, as if he was looking through a window on a rainy day; he was physically in the hospital room, but he was mentally locked away within the confines of his mind. The self-inflicted verbal abuse in his mind floated around him: _Stupid. Idiot. Senseless. Irresponsible. Appalling. Despicable. Dirty._

 _A failure._

…

Gordon didn't know what to think. He had never seen anyone, let alone Virgil act that way; he must have been remembering the time when he saw mother… He couldn't think the word without crying. It was just impossible, their amazing and funny mum was… He still couldn't think it. No matter how hard he tried, even now couldn't help but feel a hole in his chest where he felt joy and happiness should be. They were all ushered out of the room when the doctors arrived; they had apparently seen the heart monitor warning go off. They were now with a female doctor in one of the family rooms at the hospital, and she was trying to explain to them what Virgil would be be going through.

"Due to the amount of psychological trauma he has experienced during these three days, we must assume that it will take a while for him to get back to normal. That is assuming that he can, or course."

"What do you mean 'assuming he can get back to normal'?" Jeff questioned, a subtle hostility in his voice.

"Well," the doctor began slowly, "victims of psychological trauma, especially those that have survived natural disasters, experience that trauma for a long period of time, perhaps even years after the actual incident."

The family stared at her with open mouths. _Years?_ Gordon thought, _that's really scary_. How was he supposed to play or even talk with Virgil, when every time he would try, he would be afraid he would break him.

"Because of this we really need to get him into therapy as soon as possible, I'm sure you understand."

Jeff was taken aback only for a moment, "Y-yes. Of course. I understand completely."

The doctor made a move to make her way to wherever it was she needed to be, but then she stopped, "I'm… I'm sorry for your loss. All of you." She gave a small smile and walked away. The Tracy family stood there staring at the floor while lost in their thoughts.

 **…**

 **AN: I hope your heart didn't break too much T-T**

 **Edit : Unfortunately, due to upcoming exams that I have to make time to study for, this story will be on hiatus until late June early July 2017. In the mean time, if you want to read more Thunderbirds fan fiction, I suggest you read tenjounotora's stories, especially what they have for their 'Even the Strongest Fall' series, as well as the Butterflies trilogy written by the amazing ArtistcRainey. **

**Please leave a review telling me what you think. Thanks :)**


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